


Celebrations

by Llwyden ferch Gyfrinach (Llwyden)



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-13
Updated: 2004-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/pseuds/Llwyden%20ferch%20Gyfrinach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the quest, amidst Shire revelry, Merry and Pippin find a moment for a celebration of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrations

Pippin adjusted his surcoat again and scowled at his reflection. His guard uniform simply didn't look right without the boots, but Diamond had flat forbidden him to wear _shoes_ to the celebrations, even if he had worn them in the original battle. And truth be told, he still preferred feeling ground beneath his feet, despite a deep, irrational fear that Aragorn would show up in the midst of everything and scold him for the impropriety.

"Peregrin Took, you look fine and dashing," his wife informed him fondly from the other side of the room. "Stop fussing." She walked over and stretched up to peck him on the cheek as she finished tying her sash.

"You always say that," he protested as she shoved him before her out the door.

"Well, it's nearly always true. Now come on, we'll be late!"

They hurried out of Bag End and down the hill to the party field. Sam had been there all morning, one of his burdens as Mayor; Rose, Marigold, and Tom had herded the youngsters off earlier. _Four, and Rose due any day now._ Pippin shook his head. He'd have one of his own, soon — they'd just found out for certain a few days ago — but he couldn't even imagine having that many small ones at once.

They could hear the squealing of various children as they made their way to the gate, and were nearly bowled over by a pair of unknown youngsters on their way in. The younger stopped to gape up at Pippin, and he mock-scowled at the boy, whose eyes widened before he ran off after his friend. Pippin answered Diamond's sideways look with an innocent expression, and she snorted indelicately.

The field was a study in gaiety and chaos — every anniversary of the Battle of Bywater was a festive occasion, but this year, the tenth, had been specially planned. Participants, their descendants, and assorted well-wishers from throughout the Shire were expected to turn up, preparations had begun a week previously, and nearly every hobbit in Hobbiton and Bywater had helped in some way. The whole affair reminded Pippin rather poignantly of Frodo's coming-of-age party, old Mr Bilbo's last in the Shire. _But no fireworks this time,_ he thought wistfully. _No Gandalf. Though with any luck, no peculiar disappearances, either!_

"Takes your mind back, don't it?" Sam came up and nodded around at the gathering.

"Yes." Pippin nodded.

"Mayor Gamgee," Diamond greeted him politely. Then noticing Pippin's distraction, she touched him lightly on the shoulder and wandered off to leave them together.

Introspection not a natural state of mind for him, though, Pippin soon shrugged it off, and hugged Sam in welcome. Scanning the noisy, milling crowd, he voiced one of the only two questions that mattered. "Is there plenty of food to go around?"

Sam frowned worriedly, though he nodded. "There ought to be. That is, we've got enough of the foodstuffs. The only question is if we can cook it up fast enough. For all we started yesterday, it's not near as quick to make as eat!"

Pippin grinned cheekily and slapped him on the back. "Best of luck to you, Master Mayor; I place perfect trust in your ability."

Sam squinted up at him. "By which you mean to say, it's better me than you."

"Exactly. Is —"

"Mister Merry's not shown yet, though I've no doubt he'll make it for elevenses," Sam answered. "If you don't mind being useful till he does turn up, we've still some tables and such as need setting out."

Pippin laughed; one consequence of being the biggest around was that he inevitably got drafted to help with the lifting. _Oh, well,_ he thought ruefully. _Need to keep able to fit the uniform somehow._ "Lead on, Sam."

 

He was straightening a trestle, cursing his mailshirt and the unseasonable warmth impartially, when a creak of leather behind him made him spin so fast Merry nearly spilled the flagons of ale he carried.

"Merry!" Grabbing the ale and thunking it down unceremoniously on the table, Pippin threw his arms around his best friend, and they hugged each other close.

"It's so good to see you, Pip." Merry's voice was thick with emotion.

"And you." They each took a half-step back, gazing long at each other, hands on their shoulders as if afraid to let go. Merry in his horseman's boots topped Pip by several inches, but he otherwise looked the same as ever. "It's been almost a year," Pippin lamented.

"Yes." Merry smiled wistfully. "And longer since we've really spent some time together. Between my cousins and your dad-in-law..."

Pippin snorted. "If I ever volunteer like that again, please tie me up and thump me soundly."

Merry laughed and pulled Pippin back into his arms. "I have missed you, Pip."

"You remember that next time you tell me to go soak my head," Pippin shot back cheerfully, poking him in the chest. "Come on, then — we'd best get out while we can, or they'll put you to work as well. Hurry!" Grabbing Merry by the hand, he ran for the back way, pulling him along.

They made it out safely and headed over the back side of Bag End and down to the water. Just the other side of a small copse of trees, they threw themselves down breathlessly in the long grass.

Pippin picked his head up long enough to peer back through the branches. "Don't think anyone saw us," he said after a moment.

"Peregrin Took," Merry shook his head, "you're as daft as a tweenager. What if somebody needs us?"

"For what?" Pippin asked archly. "No speeches before supper, anyhow. Though now I think on it, I do wish we'd rescued some ale first. I'm parched!" He leaned down to drink from the river, dunking his face in for good measure.

"I did try," Merry pointed out.

Pippin shrugged philosophically. "We'll just have more later. To make up for lost time. Speaking of which..." A glint in his eye, he leaned closer to Merry, close enough that their breath mingled. "Hello." He leaned in the last inch, their lips melting slowly together. This heat was welcome, and their tongues flicked out to touch and dance lightly together, then dove deeper, each in turn.

They were both breathing heavily as they separated. Pippin smiled, then cocked his head at Merry's stunned expression. "What is it? Merry?"

Merry shook his head, both to clear it and in answer. "I didn't know ... I wasn't sure that you wanted to go on with me." It was Pippin's turn to look shocked, and Merry shrugged at him uncomfortably. "You've got Diamond, now."

Pippin frowned at him fiercely. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, I told you it wouldn't make a difference. It's sheer bad luck we haven't been together since then, and I mean to mend that now." He reached out decisively and undid Merry's brooch, casting his cloak to one side.

"But what if —" Pippin reached for Merry's buckles, but Merry grabbed his hand, his face growing stern. "We've got duties now, Pip. You have a wife, you need an heir —"

"Got one," Pippin informed him succinctly.

"What?"

He grinned at having startled his friend. "Diamond's carrying now. Mum says it's a boy, and she ought to know."

"How can she?" Merry asked, momentarily distracted.

Pippin shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Some female thing, no doubt. Come on, Merry," he pouted. "Are you done being responsible yet?" He gave up on the disrobing and simply launched himself at the other hobbit, landing full-length on top of him. He nuzzled Merry's cheek and traced his jawline with the tip of his nose, then leaned in further to lick along the tendons of his neck.

Merry's breath caught in his throat, but he shook his head. "I like Diamond —"

Pippin ran his tongue back up to Merry's lips and plunged it into his mouth in a fierce but brief kiss. "So do I," he answered. "I like her very much. I like you more, and she knows that. You don't think I'd try to keep it from her? Not that I probably could," he acknowledged his wife's keen mind wryly.

Merry looked up at him searchingly, painful hope dawning on his face. "Truly?"

Smiling, Pippin leaned in for another kiss, slower this time, filled with more love than lust. Merry joined in wholeheartedly this time, and they lingered over it, rediscovering long-missed tastes and textures. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, then moved lower, only to stop suddenly as they both laughed.

Pippin snickered down at Merry. "There is no romantic way out of mail, I don't think." He sat back, pulling the surcoat over his head.

"I think it's to stop you fooling about on duty," Merry informed him sardonically. "No, wait."

Pippin stopped, hands on his mailshirt. "What?"

Merry sat up, leaving Pippin to kneel over his legs, and reached for the shirt himself. Running his fingers down the closely-knit links, he slid his thumbs under the bottom edge and raised his hands, gathering the mail as he went, his eyes never leaving Pippin's.

Pippin raised his arms automatically as Merry slid his hands through the shirt's neck to caress his face, protecting his hair from the chain as he slid it off.

"I take it back," Pippin managed after a moment. Merry grinned. Nevertheless, they resumed peeling off their layers of armour with more alacrity than seduction. Somehow, it became a contest in getting the other one's clothing off first, which consequently resulted in the process taking twice as long as it should have and the royal emblems of Gondor and Rohan lying strewn about the grass beside the two now madly giggling hobbits.

The hilarity changed to deeper joy as they lay back in each other's arms, hands now freely roaming over sun-warmed, familiar flesh.

They kissed again, sucking at each other's lips, the sensations rushing through their bodies, intensified at every point they met.

Pippin sighed happily and pulled at Merry's bottom lip with his teeth, licking inside it, encouraging Merry's tongue back into his own mouth. Merry's hands ran down his sides and onto his back, one settling in at the base of his spine, caressing lightly, forcing a small cry from Pippin as his hips twitched forward. In answer, he brought his own hands up to scour the rough pads of his thumbs over Merry's nipples, making him groan and arch up as much as he was able. He shifted, and Pippin rolled to one side, giving them both greater freedom of movement.

After so long apart, they had little patience for the finer complexities of lovemaking. That could come later in the day, or the week. For this time, they swiftly reached the never-forgotten rhythm that best pleased them both, thrusting into each other's sweat-slicked flesh with increasing urgency, feeling out the most sensitive spots on their lover, rushing toward a climax that hit with the force of a sword-stroke, piercing them through with delight. They cried out one last time and lay still, panting in the grass. Pippin collapsed to lay half on Merry, the closeness more important than any heat, and they remained there for some time in silence.

Eventually, Merry stirred underneath him. "Are we expected for anything other than meals?"

Pippin shrugged and squirmed closer yet. "Not that I know of."

"Good." Merry sounded half-asleep already; loving often took him like that.

"Go to sleep, old gaffer," Pippin teased him. "Have to keep your strength up."

Merry smacked him smartly on the arse. "I'll show you old," he affirmed around a yawn, and glared at Pippin even as his eyes drifted closed. "Soon as I wake up," he vowed.

Pippin watched him fondly and caressed his shoulder and arm with simple possessive joy. "I look forward to it," he told his sleeping lover, and settled in to wait. "Old, and older, and oldest."


End file.
